


Spring in Ishgard

by metalmaddog



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 14:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalmaddog/pseuds/metalmaddog
Summary: After the reactor Grinnaux tries to survive without his other half.





	Spring in Ishgard

It did not rain in Ishgard, or had not for many years. This morning the unusual noise to his window in the Dzemael mansion woke up the former Knight of the Heavens’ Ward. His dreams had not been pleasant and he kept waking up every night because those dreams were too much to bear. It was early morning now, however, and he had managed to rest for a few hours. Feeling a little groggy he tried to reach out for the body next to him: to confirm that his lover was still there, that he could feel his warm muscled body, but he his hand only found emptiness in the bed beside him. His eyes snapped open and the reality came pouring in wiping away the dreams where the white-haired lancer was always within arm’s reach of him. Grinnaux tried to push the thoughts away but he couldn’t and eventually sat up resting his arms on his raised knees.  
The handsome dark skinned elezen looked haggard. He was getting fatter, puffier as if a bloated corpse, his face was rounder and his skin turning almost grey. His eyes were more sunken than usual and quite red. His whole look and even his manners looked like a dead man walking. Without his lover and with nothing to do except to stay in the mansion he was slowly rotting away from the inside and outside.  
He rubbed his face and decided not bother with washing up, then got up and glanced outside. For a moment he wondered how it was raining but then realised he did not care. The spring might be coming and the snow might have melted away because the Dragonsong war had finally ended but none of this meant much to him now.  
_In the wilderness of western Coerthas a man emerged from a ruined and half buried door on the battlements of Dusk Vigil. He eyed the rain curiously and stretched before going back inside to a little room that had been sealed off from rest of the fortress. There the man seemed to have built a very cosy little nest. He had a chocobo in there for company and probably for warmth as well. One he had worked hard for to purchase from the chocobo hunters of Tailfeather. He had taken a great liking to the bird when he had first seen it as a hatchling: the poor thing had been oddly coloured. As it had grown the feathers had turned chocolate coloured. It reminded the man, a great deal, of a person he once knew, a person who was dearer to him than his own life. He had even named the bird after him and to his great amusement the animal had developed just as nasty temper as his namesake. Together they set up a fire in the fireplace and lazily began to cook breakfast: after all there was nothing much to do with weather like this. Later he would have to go fetch some firewood, judging from the way he cast a look at the pile beside the old fireplace with only few logs left._  
Grinnaux made his way into the formal dining room where the servants were setting up breakfast. No other members of House Dzemael were there yet. Grinnaux took his usual spot beside the count, who obviously sat at the end of the table, and stared at his plate. None of the servants dared to address him until the old woman who had been his nanny brought him a plate of omelette with several sausages and pieces of ham.  
“Please eat, master Grinnaux; food will heal a broken heart.” She said in a rather motherly tone. Grinnaux merely glanced at her with his dead eyes but did not even manage to smile at her anymore, let alone thank her. Slowly he took a fork and started to stuff the food into his mouth: there was no joy even in eating anymore: it tasted of snow and sawdust, things that had little flavour. It was sad for him considering how highly House Dzemael prided itself in two things: the food their chefs cooked and the buildings their workmen built. Despite it Grinnaux kept eating, and desperately hoping that he could at least taste something. His whole experience of existence now was colourless, tasteless and soundless.  
“Good morning, Grinnaux…” The count glanced at his nephew and sighed in a rather condescending manner. The man had wished that this morning he would be greeted by the usual brash, loud and grinning Grinnaux at the breakfast table finally. A servant brought him a plate after he had taken a seat. He stared at the younger man. “Did they not teach you any manners in the Ward? Must you eat with your fingers?” In hopes of tasting the food he had always loved so much the warrior had started to use his fingers instead. “It would be about time you find something to do…” But he said no more as Grinnaux replied nothing merely kept on eating and making a mess. The other members of the family slowly gathered around the table most of them glancing with contempt at the way Grinnaux was but then just shook their heads knowing there was nothing much to do about him. It wasn’t like he had been much better as a child either. Grinnaux leaned back and glanced at his right side where Paulecrain would have set when he was serving House Dzemael, though he had been merely an employee Grinnaux had always kept him close. It was unbearable for him that he was not there. Suddenly he hit his fist into his plate, shattering it and sending pieces and food everywhere.  
“This is a farce! You useless swiving milksops and whoresons! There is no meaning to any of this!” He yelled and pushed the heavy wooden chair back before walking out of the room. The occasions he felt at least anger were such a welcome pleasure to his sadness-clouded world that for a moment he felt alive again, but he soon calmed down when the sorrow wrapped its chains firmly around his broken heart anew.  
_The rain in Coerthas had ceased and the man, followed by his odd dark brown chocobo, made his way into the courtyard of Dusk Vigil, probably used for the purpose of taking to the air swiftly with a chocobo, during the glory days of the magnificent and imposing fortress. The man spoke nothing and with some difficulty mounted his feisty bird, who would rather have thrown him off and gone off on his own. The animal also seemed quite stupid: the chocobo spread his wings, took a few running steps to get into air only to fly for a short distance and right into the wall of the courtyard. They had to try again. But the man was always patient with his animal._  
_Little to the east there was a good area for some trees where they ungracefully landed and the man jumped from the back of the fallen chocobo. A few coblyns came to greet them but at least the chocobo seemed to be an excellent fighter and was happy to chase the frightened coblyns around just for his own fun while the man wrapped in tattered brown cloak was left to his wood cutting. The snow was melting and it was certainly warmer. After being at it for several hours he glanced up at the sun, his face was sweaty even though his cloak had been discarded ages ago. It was noon already and barely had he looked away from his task during the whole time._  
Grinnaux aimlessly wandered around the large mansion for at least fifteen minutes but then found himself in the library. He hoped a book would take his mind off his loneliness, however he had never been much of a reader and didn’t really know what to even read. He found some history book, flipped through it. But he did not want to read about all those valiant lancers and dragoons when his own was forgotten and erased from history. He threw the book into the fireplace in a slight fit of anger. After browsing through several books from manuals to fiction he finally settled for something about fighting with a two-handed sword. It seemed interesting enough but he found himself mostly flipping through it then glancing out of the window more and more frequently and for longer periods. The time did not seem to pass. He looked at the clock and it was nowhere near noon yet. He had been sitting there for mere thirty minutes and it had felt like an eternity. He just wanted time to pass and his mind to forget but when he glanced down at the book and flipped back a few pages he realised he had not read anything. And when he tried to concentrate harder the lancer’s face popped into his head out of nowhere.  
It did not help either that he was beginning to think of Ser Zephirin: he had always been disrespectful towards the Archimandrite, but looking at the book now he started to think there might have been some battle techniques their leader could actually have taught him. But he had not cared back then just taking everything for granted: especially that he had Paulecrain and that they would forever be together, or at least that they would die together in some battle or another, never leaving the other behind to mourn for his other half. He closed the book with a grumble, and leaned back staring out of the window with eyes that looked like the frozen surface of a lake; there might have been life under the ice but the surface was thick, cold and quiet. He did not cry, though, since he just had no strength for that anymore. The hours to noon passed slowly as he watched into the street and thought of all the things he had done with his lancer. Had anyone come in during that time they would have likely thought him already gone to Halone’s halls, so still he sat with a shawl wrapped loosely around his upper body, hardly even blinking his half-closed eyes.  
_The man in western Coerthas glanced at the large pile of firewood he now had to lug to his little adobe. The chocobo had calmed down after killing several coblyns and was merely trying to locate something to eat under the snow. He tied it to a tree and then began to load up the wood into some sacks that hung from the chocobo’s saddle. It was a difficult task because the bird wouldn’t stay still and finally he smacked it over the head which made it more docile for the moment. When they returned and had unloaded the goods it was starting to be lunch time. He cooked himself a meagre but sufficient cauldron of Archaeornis soup. It did not look very appetizing but without complaint or disgusted countenance the man ate the valuable sustenance._  
_Next he went through his food supply and found there to be plenty of meat but any other ingredients were almost out. He sometimes went to Tailfeather to buy various things, including food for his chocobo, since the man clearly lived off the land so he presumably had no gil on him and there had to be something else he traded for things he could not get around that area. He reached out to touch some Yeti furs he had for his bed then thoughtfully eyed the empty rack that hung from the ceiling. The furs were certainly something the hunters at Tailfeather would have been after but it seemed the man had no extras. He gathered his things again, including his lance that didn’t look like it belonged to a man such as him, perhaps it was stolen. Then off he went, towards Twinpools with his clumsy chocobo._  
The library clock chimed when it was noon and Grinnaux woke up from his chair. He rubbed his head realising he had fallen asleep only now but his memories had never ceased. Sometimes he had woken up like this with Paulecrain watching him, sometimes he remembered the cold man’s warm lips on his forehead when he had dozed off in a chair, but as he had never been quite sure after waking up, if Paulecrain had really done something as stupid and childish as Grinnaux thought, he had not been able to scold him for it. He reached to rub a certain spot on his forehead and imagined that there was ticklish feeling there, as if a memory of a recent kiss. Maybe a ghost was there with him. Even seen and feeling the ghost of Paulecrain would have been fine now.  
“If you are present, Paulecrain… show yourself to me. Full glad would I be to see your face.” His own voice sounded much too desperate in the empty room and he broke out laughing at his own stupidity. “I am an utter fool… such ridiculous milksop and a complete woman. Pining after my brother so…” His voice broke at the end and he leaned forward: tightly closing his eyes and his mouth and dug his fingernails deeply into his palms, enough to draw blood which he never noticed. He got up slowly, shaking his head and went into the kitchen to get himself a large plate of food. He sat there among the servants eating like he tended to do often these days. He did not wish to go into the dining hall where the rest of the family was constantly judging him or telling him what he should do instead. The servants were busy in the warm smelly room going through their work and did not bother him: he could eat the way he pleased and look as miserable as he felt. All of them had lost someone to the holy war: mothers, fathers, children and lovers, they should have known how it felt but they did not seem to care. It was as if the Ishgardian way was to get over sorrow very quickly so you could start fighting again. It was not usual to put up with people who lost all their will to live: it was better for them to simply vanish, in other words it was better not to become a burden to your family but go and end your life if you could not be useful.  
After eating Grinnaux went to the sitting room. He didn’t even notice his cousin there with his lackey, just walked to the window to look at the scenery. The airship landings were there: ready to take you to the Diadem, Azys Lla or Sea of Clouds, the streets were busy and the sun was shining. Grinnaux watched the snow melting on the roofs of buildings. Just then a large wet pile of snow fell from roof of the Athenaeum Astrologicum and quite buried the guildmaster Jannequinard, who had just stepped out. Normally Grinnaux would have laughed his head off but now not even a smile graced his handsome but worn out face. Perhaps it was better that the war was over, he mused to himself with a small melancholy laugh. Perhaps if there had not been any war he wouldn’t have lost the only person he had wanted to spend his life with. Everything was meaningless now: the warmth, the life on the streets and their thriving nation moving forward. He did not have heart left in him to enjoy the new and changed Ishgard nor to hate it either.  
He turned around only to come face to face with something much too familiar. Archombadin and Lebrassoir were sitting quite openly with the taller man’s legs draped over the shorter one’s and embracing each other quite boldly, though everyone knew of their relationship the count hardly approved of it and never had. There was too much of that going on with the Dzemael sons and he was expecting, now even Grinnaux, but mostly Archombadin to marry and produce heirs to the house. Though the count was not a heartless man in these matters. He had once instructed, after a few glasses of wine too many, that it was fine to keep your beloved man close despite the duty of siring sons for the house. The sight was not an unwelcome one to Grinnaux but it shocked him and made him shiver. He could remember himself and Paulecrain like that too, inside this house, being obnoxious on purpose to show off their relationship. They all stared at each other for a moment then Grinnaux simply waved his hand.  
“Keep him close, cousin… or you might lose him one day and life might as well end there.” They said nothing simply looking shocked at his words when he walked out of the room. He felt like pitying himself when he could not just go upstairs into his room and wrap himself around Paulecrain like that. It was all starting to be little too much. He fell against the wall and rubbed his forehead to get some kind of feeling into his brain: anything other than thoughts of him or them together. He wanted something else to think about and this sorrow to just go away. He turned and punched the panel, despite being sturdy spruce it broke under the pounding of his fists. “Why must I yet live when he is not here…” He sobbed finally resting his head against the splintered wood. The count had ordered three servants to drag him back to his room and he did not fight them. The old man locked the door.  
“Grinnaux… you are to stay in there until you calm down. I’ve been quite patient with you but I’ve had enough. You are going to help in central Coerthas tomorrow. This foolish self-pity will stop now!” He simply laid himself down on the carpet not caring about the words behind the door. So many times he had made Paulecrain sleep on the floor like this as a punishment for something he could not even remember anymore.  
_Slaying a few yeti seemed not a particularly hard task for the man in western Coerthas. Pouncing on their heads and thrusting his lance through their skull seemed to take care of the matter in just seconds but the bigger task still lay ahead. He took out a knife and began the painful task of skinning something several times his own size. Even skinning one of the beasts was a several hour job and it was past dinner time when he finally started cleaning the skins in the warm little pools. Sometimes he paused and looked around with a strange expression, strange in that it wasn’t his usual cold one but then he simply resumed his work: clearly not a man to daydream while he had something to keep himself busy. He had sometime earlier built a rack on the rocks above the Dragonspit. With the help of his strong chocobo they hauled the first cleaned fur over the rack to dry up. It tended to freeze as well but he merely wanted to make them lighter for bringing home. After the difficult task was over he continued washing the other fur._  
_This time the water turned crimson and suddenly he stopped and let out a sigh, shook his head and sat down. He covered his face with his hand in a gesture that looked more sorrowful than tired and like that he sat for a long time before revealing his, yet again, expressionless and cold countenance: and all this without ever uttering a word, not even to order his chocobo, then he returned to the task at hand._  
The sun was setting and the day had passed with Grinnaux doing absolutely nothing. He had went around his room touching and remembering. He had laid in the bed hoping he could still smell Paulecrain but obviously the scent had vanished long ago. He wondered where the Vault sheets were that they had slept in, surely those would still smell of his lancer but they had probably been donated to the poor. He thought it just as well. He had never cared for the social order: when the man so close to him was just another poor and destitute it had always been impossible for him to justify his own family’s actions. Paulecrain had been just as good if not better on the battlefield but rarely was he recognised while Grinnaux had quickly been promoted to better and better ranks.  
He ran his fingers over the posts of the bed thinking about the sex they had in it, though for some reason it was not an aspect he cared to remember that much. While their sex life had been more than satisfying, interesting and pleasurable, he had lately come to realise it had never been what it should have been: repeatedly confirming their mutual feelings for one another. It had always been something animals did: more like mating than anything heartfelt and beautiful. He wasn’t sure if he knew any other way to make love or if Paulecrain did either but he now wished they would have, at least once, properly made love.  
There was a knock on the door and it opened when he turned from the bed, his large hands still holding onto the furniture rather desperately. His cousin came in with a food tray, followed by the ever present red head.  
“Grinnaux… we have brought some food. Please eat.” The highly educated man spoke in the curt manner of a person who was trying very hard not to offend anyone so he tried to say as little as possible and with as simple words as possible. “Additionally…” The younger Dzemael looked a little scared when he took Grinnaux’ hand. Despite being close relatives their skins were so different and their whole physique too: how large the dark skinned man’s hand was even compared to a tall young man like Archombadin. He looked a little awestruck but then placed a small key in the palm of Grinnaux’ hand. “Uncle keeps your holy armour and weapon in the back storage room on the lowest cellar level.” He closed Grinnaux’ fingers and gave him a small awkward smile before leaving the room.  
Being united with his weapon and armour was something he had not really even thought about. He missed them because they reminded him of the others and most of all of Paulecrain. He did not even look at the plate but made his way down into the cellar so quickly that he managed to avoid running into anyone else, perhaps Halone was watching his steps. The room that he opened was dark but even if in the faint light shining from the hallway he could spot the white armour. He went in clutching at the pieces. It would be hard to put it on without Paulecrain to help and with an odd expression he started to pull it on. He had gotten fatter but it did still fit as there was always a little extra room in his clothes: he tended to gain weight rather than lose it. With almost painstaking detail he remembered the countless times they had dressed and undressed those pieces with his lover. He could almost see the man before him and it made his eyes well up with tears when he reached out to touch but never reached solid warm flesh.  
However, he managed to get the armour on finally and by the time this was done his eyes had already gotten used to the darkness: he picked up Stampede where it had been discarded on the floor near the wall without a care in the world. The weight and feel of his axe seemed to suddenly revive something deep within him. He tested it around from one hand to the other and then triumphantly laughed, the sound odd even in his own ears as if the feeling in the laugh was fake and hollow. He walked out with long heavy strides and into the main hall where he ran into his uncle who insisted the guards stop him but once his axe had gone through one of them no one stood in his way anymore and let the bull stampede out of the building.  
_Once the furs were both up and drying the man sat down to eat a small dinner, mostly consisting of some dry meat since he had little else left. He watched his only companion devouring chysahl greens from a nearby bush, making a mess as he usually tended: he kept shaking the poor round little vegetables until they went into pieces in order to devour only the better tasting centre parts. This seemed to amuse the cold elezen who for the first time in all day let out a small laugh but it soon died out as his expression turned somewhat painful and he looked away towards the sky. He lifted his eyepatch to show an eyeless hole and carefully wiped the moisture from its edge then flipped the eyepatch back down. He continued watching the stars appearing as the sun gradually disappeared completely while slowly chewing his meat strips. Soon after it was completely dark he got up and went to roll the furs into a manageable rolls, which he then tied up firmly with some ropes. He placed them on the back of his chocobo who did not seem to mind the heavy weights and they started trudging in the snow towards Dusk Vigil._  
Grinnaux was holding his axe on his shoulder and enjoying the cold breeze in front of Falcon’s Nest. Being outside again was a small comfort and his weapon a little more. The vast open sky with millions of little shining dots was making him feel somewhat small. He quite enjoyed the feeling now because all he wanted was to become smaller and smaller until he would disappear from this world. No more of the endless cold, no more lonely nights and most of all no more battles without his most important companion by his side. It seemed almost like a relief that he had decided to go. Where ever Paulecrain was he would surely join him when he’d die and they would once again be united, this time forever.  
Unfortunately it was harder to tell it all to his body. The night had worn down to almost morning when he found himself by the large lake surrounding Stone Vigil. He was drenched in blood from the enemies he had killed, hoping they would kill him but there was just no way he could force himself to surrender in a battle and be simply slain. He was feeling tired and angry. The imposing structure before him looked deadly enough. Perhaps inside he would find a match for his skills. He started walking towards the entrance.  
Because of the recent warm weather the ice that had engulfed the lake had started to melt, and in places it had become a whole lot thinner. There was a hollow sound of ice cracking under the heavy warrior’s footsteps but he never minded it. It was not until he reached the centre and stopped for a moment that the matter he had thought solid under him suddenly sank and water started pooling onto his armoured boots. His mind was quite blank as he threw Stampede from his hands further away not even sure why he had done it but perhaps to protect the one thing he still loved on Eorzea: his weapon. He had never been a quick thinker otherwise but had heard freezing to death was not really unpleasant way to go, whether he had changed his mind would probably not have helped because merely seconds after he had thrown his axe away the ice under him fully gave away and he plunged heavily through the waters that had been still since the Calamity. The armour weighed him down despite him being as fat as he was. He held his breath wishing to first freeze before taking water into his lungs. His mind was only filled with thoughts of Paulecrain, slowly the reality mixed with his imagination, his body starting to freeze and organs were shutting down. The water was quite clean as it had stood undisturbed for years and the moon shone through the thinned ice: he could see Paulecrain’s face above him quite clearly. Finally he would see him again, could touch his scarred skin and could hear his voice confessing feelings that men like them should probably not have for one another. After so many moons he was finally feeling happy and he fell into Paulecrain’s arms as everything else in the world slowly faded away.  
_The white haired man with one eye had finally reached the edge of the lake, both him and his chocobo were rather tired and it was getting cold at that hour. The moon shone from the clear sky illuminating their way and before him there was a figure on the eyes who suddenly disappeared.. The man appeared hesitant for a mere moment. He tied his chocobo up, albeit rather loosely, and walked carefully across the ice. There was indeed a hole there, a rather large one and slowly broken pieces of ice were floating in it. The water below was not as dark as one could have expected, but the item that gleamed just at the edge of the hole caught his attention and slowly with his one eye wide and lips slightly parted he slid closer to it. “Stampede…” He said softly. He removed his gloves and ran his hand along the length of the weapon. His hand stayed on a spot where Grinnaux had been earlier a little longer. A rather large puff of steam came from his mouth when his face suddenly turned towards the hole. He moved fast but lightly not to break the ice again and peered into the water. “Ser Grinnaux?!” He cried out hoarsely and the chocobo let out an annoyed cry behind him. He ignored the animal glanced up at the moon. “Fury preserve us and keep us.” He said in a frightened voice before he too dived into the hole._  
Soon the lifeless lake was motionless again, under the slowly passing moon, no animal stirred and not even the wind wanted to come out to play with snow on the smooth lake surface, the only life that could be seen or heard were the pathetic cries of the unusually coloured chocobo named ‘Ser Grinnaux’ who was struggling to go pull out of his bonds to follow his owner to the bottom of the lake.


End file.
